Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (5 page)

“My lady.” He sketched a hasty bow.

“There is no need for formalities. After all, we will soon be traveling companions.” She gave him a small smile.

Barlo sat. “Forgive me for saying so, but your parents didn’t seem too happy you’re coming with us.”

“They do not like that I will be leaving our wood, especially to go on such a dangerous quest. But they cannot dispute the wisdom of the Quenya.”

“No parent likes to send their child into danger,” Barlo said. A moment of thoughtful silence passed.

“Did you see another elf on your way here?” Barlo asked. “Iarion and I saw a maiden wandering through the trees, singing. Her song was a sad one. How could anyone be so sad in a place like this?”

“You saw the Lady Finiferia. She is my brother’s wife.” Silvaranwyn’s golden eyes became distant. “Her name was Eransinta once—Eyes of the Heavens. Now she is the Shroud of Sorrow. All elven names have meaning. Did Iarion ever tell you this? His name means ‘Shining Hope.’”

Barlo shook his head. “What does your name mean, lady? What happened to your brother’s wife to make her change her name and become so sad?”

“I am the Maid of Sunset. My parents are learning how apt my title is.” Silvaranwyn’s gaze refocused on Barlo. “Elven names are important. They are given to parents by the Quenya and say something of the child’s nature or destiny. Finiferia is the only elf to ever change her name.

“Twins are rare among elves. Finiferia’s twin was killed during the Age of Sundering in the Kinslaying. Ever since, it has been as though a piece of her were missing. No elf knows what happens to the souls of those whose lives end in violence before they fulfill their destiny. None have ever returned. She has found some measure of happiness in my brother and their two children, but at night she wanders, searching.”

“No wonder she is so sad. But please, what is the Kinslaying?”

“You should get some rest while you can,” Silvaranwyn said. “Iarion and Lysandir are already asleep.”

“Very well,” Barlo said. “If you won’t answer my question, then let’s talk about Iarion and Lysandir. If you’re coming on this quest and only an elf can touch the Quenya, why do you need Iarion?”

“This is Iarion’s quest. I do not believe it is coincidence he came seeking our counsel at the same time Lysandir arrived with news of the Forsworn.”

“Lysandir.” Barlo made a sour face. “Why does he have to come?”

“You do not trust him.”

“I just find it a little convenient, is all. No one has ever escaped Mar Valion before him, and no one else has since.”

“He is a
Curusin
.” Silvaranwyn shrugged. “He is no ordinary being.”

“Do you trust him?” Barlo locked eyes with the elf.

“I have only met him a few times. He does not often have the chance to visit us. He wanders the lands, searching for news of the Fallen One’s plans. My parents trust him though, and they have known him since he was born. Iarion trusts him, does he not?”

“Yes.” Barlo sighed. “There’s just something about him that doesn’t sit right with me. I’m going to keep my eye on him. But please, don’t say anything about it to Iarion.”

“As I said before, you are a good friend.” Silvaranwyn smiled. “I give you my word. Iarion will learn nothing of your suspicions from me. But now you should get some rest. We will be leaving early tomorrow.”

Barlo yawned, staring out at the forest. “I suppose you’re right. Well, thanks for listening to an old dwarf prattle on. Good night then.” Barlo turned to face the Light Elf, but she was gone.

A whisper came to him from the empty air.

“Good night.”

–
Chapter Five –

The Levniquenya

Iarion woke early the next morning. He and his two companions broke their fast in the pavilion, where fresh food had been laid out. Iarion felt rejuvenated, but he noticed dark circles under Barlo’s eyes. How late had the dwarf stayed up? Iarion knew better than to ask. He gave his left arm an experimental stretch. His shoulder had already healed.

Silvaranwyn arrived after they had finished eating. Her presence seemed to fill the pavilion with a golden glow.

“Come.” She walked outside and gestured for them to follow.

She led them back to the glade of the Quenya. Iarion felt its power tingle against his skin once more, tantalizing him. Valanandir and Iadrawyn were already waiting. Valanandir was holding a silver sphere engraved with intricate Elvish runes traced with gold.

“This is the Levniquenya,” he said. “It is a vessel made to transport the Quenya. You will need it to carry Saviadro’s corrupted portion back from Mar Valion.”

“Is it magic?” Barlo’s eyes widened.

“It is magic of the most ancient kind,” Iadrawyn said. “A mighty elf smith crafted it millennia ago on Ralvaniar. We imbued it with the residue of what magic we had at our disposal at the time.”

“Why would you need such a thing?” Barlo asked.

“This is not the first time we have had to recapture the Quenya.” Valanandir’s expression tightened. “It was stolen from us once before in the Age of Sunlight by the creatures of darkness. They used the Quenya to cover the land with a shroud of darkness. Thousands of elven lives were lost before we reclaimed it. We are fortunate in this instance that the Fallen One only managed to take a small part of the Quenya before he was interrupted.”

“If you have the Levniquenya,” Barlo said, “how did Saviadro carry away his portion?”

“The dwarves helped him,” Iarion said in a quiet voice. He felt he should be the one to deliver this blow to his friend. Although Iarion had always known the story, it was a truth he had never shared with Barlo.

“What?” The color drained from Barlo’s face.

“Saviadro found the best smiths among the dwarves during the Age of Sundering,” Iarion continued. “He tricked them into creating another vessel by telling them it was for some other purpose.

“Dwarves know little of the Quenya. This was before Saviadro’s betrayal, so the dwarves believed his lies and did as he asked. Although their actions were performed in ignorance, it was the first betrayal of the dwarves against the elves. The dwarves were horrified once they realized what they had done.”

“Why have I never heard this tale before?” Barlo said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It happened thousands of years ago.” Iarion placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “No doubt the dwarves wanted to keep their shame a secret. I had hoped that you would never need to know. I’m sorry.”

“I knew there was some dark reason our people no longer had close relations, but I had no idea…” Barlo’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. You said that was the first betrayal of the dwarves. What was the second?”

“That story belongs to Lysandir and must wait for another time,” Valanandir said. “A messenger has arrived. We thought it best you hear what news he has brought before you depart.”

An elf with red-gold hair and blue eyes stepped forward. Iarion inhaled sharply. The elf had a pair of white and gold feathered wings. Their tips reached the elf’s ankles. His skin was golden like that of the
Linadar
. He was
Sintadain
, a Sky Elf.

Iarion had only heard of them in tales. The
Sintadar
had been created by Valanandir and Iadrawyn during the sundering of the elves. They had once been land-dwelling Light Elves who loved watching the heavens and speaking with birds. The lord and lady had used the Quenya to give them wings so they could help in the fight against Saviadro and his dark forces. Now they served as spies and messengers.

“More groups of the Marred Races have infiltrated the midlands.” The winged elf spoke haltingly in the Common Tongue. “They appear to be scouting parties. Even now, some are prowling the Adar Daran.” Silence filled the glade at this news.

“We will have to muster what allies we can to prepare for the coming battle,” Valanandir said. “We will send
Sintadar
messengers to Melaralva to let them know of this development. Although I would also like to send messengers to Rasdaria and the Fey Wood, I doubt it would be safe to do so with the Forsworn abroad in the north.”

“Begging your pardon, my lord,” Barlo said. “But what about the dwarves and men of the midlands? Surely they must be warned.”

“Do you believe they would aid us?” The lord frowned. “Our relations with the other races are strained at best. I fear we have lived too long in isolation.”

“Well, as I understand it,” Barlo said, “this affects all of us. I doubt the foul creatures will pass the rest of us by on their way here. Now I can’t speak for the men, but if you send word to Dwarvenhome, they’ll take heed.” With Narilga ruling in Barlo’s absence, Iarion was inclined to agree.

Valanandir nodded. “Very well. I will instruct our messengers to see that the Earth Elves pass these tidings on to Dwarvenhome. As for the men and women of Belierumar, they regard us as creatures of legend. I am afraid they would shoot one of our messengers out of ignorance. We can only hope they maintain their vigil over the Southern Passage.” Lysandir frowned, but remained silent.

“There is something more,” the
Sintadain
continued. “I flew to Mar Arin seeking Numarin. The
Curusin
was missing. I could find no signs of struggle.”

Iarion’s eyes widened. Numarin was the Learnéd One of Air. The color drained from Lysandir’s face.

“Is it not possible he was simply away when you visited?” Valanandir asked.

“That seems a logical explanation, but my heart tells me something has happened to him,” Iadrawyn said.

“We will stop by Mar Arin on our way north,” Lysandir said. “Perhaps I will be able to find some clue to his disappearance.” Valanandir nodded his agreement.

“The movement of the dark forces will only make your quest more dangerous.” Iadrawyn’s green gaze became distant and her voice hollow. “The path before you is filled with shadows. It twists in unexpected directions. Do not be afraid to accept the help of others along the way, but be wary. Betrayal hangs over you like a shroud. Iarion, you will be tempted to drink from the Forbidden Pool. Do so at your own peril.” Her eyes focused once more.

“I give you the Levniquenya.” Valanandir handed Iarion the vessel. It was surprisingly light in his hands. “I charge you with its safe return, along with the missing portion of the Quenya. May fortune smile upon you all.”

“Please, provision yourselves well.” The lady gestured to several other elves that had arrived bearing supplies. “Valanandir and I would like a moment to say farewell to our daughter.”

Iarion wrapped the Levniquenya in some spare clothing and stowed it at the bottom of his pack. The elves bore dried travel rations, new arrows for Iarion, and extra blankets. It would get colder once they were in the north. The elves also provided healing supplies. Lysandir fell into a deep conversation in Elvish with some of those who recognized him. Iarion stole a glance at Silvaranwyn and her parents and caught Barlo doing the same.

“I understand she is their daughter and they want her to be safe, but why were they so shocked at her wanting to come with us?” Barlo asked.

“I don’t think she means to come back.” Iarion continued to watch as the family embraced. Two other elves had arrived—one male and the other female. The family resemblance was undeniable. They must be Silvaranwyn’s siblings.

“Why wouldn’t she come back? This is her home.” Barlo frowned.

“The Quenya has told her something.” Iarion felt some of his bitterness creep into his voice.

“She’s not going to die, surely?”

“Perhaps, if it is her destiny.” Iarion shrugged. “But I don’t think so.”

“Then why are they acting like she’s dying?” The family was now weeping openly as they embraced Silvaranwyn.

“In a way, I suppose she is going to die.” Iarion looked over at his friend. Barlo’s shocked gaze met his. “
Linadar
cannot be apart from the Quenya for prolonged periods of time. It changes them. It is what changed the rest of us into
Goladar
.”

“What will happen to her?”

“Over time, she will fade from Light Elf to Shadow Elf. Her coloring will darken and her magic will wither. And unlike the rest of the
Linadar
, who live forever unless killed, she will become mortal, and eventually die once her purpose is fulfilled.”

“Then why is she coming with us?” Barlo’s expression was aghast.

“Because she must.”

“Why? Because some mystical presence has planned this out for her?”

“It’s not only because it is the path that’s laid out for her.” Iarion sighed. “It’s likely she knows our quest will fail unless she comes with us.”

“And why is that? Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. Because the Quenya told her.” Barlo rolled his eyes before taking a good look at his friend. “Wait. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I’m jealous!” Iarion hissed. “I would give anything to have the connection to the Quenya she has.”

“Even if it meant almost certain death?”

“At least I wouldn’t be wandering around, wondering why I’m here.”

“Why not? That’s the way the rest of us live, and we get by just fine.”

“I can’t believe this.” Some of Iarion’s hurt crept into his voice. “From the way you were talking yesterday, I thought you understood.”

“The First Father knows I’m trying.” Barlo sighed. “I’m sorry, Iarion. It’s hard to understand when I see a family like this one being torn apart because it’s the will of some glowing light. Why would you want to be like them anyway? Look at what this has done to them.”

“They are sad, but they are at peace, knowing this is the way things should be. Their lives are shaped by a sense of certainty. All I have is a void where that connection should be. To have a connection with the Quenya is what it means to be an elf. I am the only one of my kind without one. Although they are sad now, they have never known the despair that comes with being lost, perhaps for all eternity. There are times when I have even contemplated taking my own life.”